


Put the Past Away

by Lazarusmycroft



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarusmycroft/pseuds/Lazarusmycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know I have already written about Sherlock's homecoming after TRF but this is another version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put the Past Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy, and as always the characters are not mine

Sherlock had been dead for almost two years now and John had moved out of 221B and into a much smaller flat not far away.  His life had become nothing but routine, work at the surgery daily, go home and go to bed do the same thing the next day.  Occasionally he would join Greg at the pub if there was a match on otherwise his life was just completely constant and dull.  He asked himself day after day why he hadn't said something earlier, maybe if he had come clean with Sherlock it would have been enough to stop him jumping.  He would never know the answer to that and it broke his heart repeatedly.

At least once a week he did break the monotony of his life and visit briefly with Mrs. Hudson and he would even ascend those steps to the now vacant flat.  Those were the hardest days for him.  Inevitably he would return to his flat and down at least two glasses of scotch then go right to bed and sleep a dreamless sleep for a change.  It was a particularly gloomy and rainy Monday when he decided it had been a while since he last visited Baker Street and decided he would drop over after he finished working.  After his last patient left the office he grabbed his coat and shoulder bag and made his way to the rain soaked street.

Once outside the flat he did what he always did, took a deep breath and forced himself to move forward.  Letting himself in as he always did he imagined he could smell Sherlock, a bit musky with just a hint of licorice.  Shaking his head he walked to Mrs. Hudson's flat and knocked, she let him in giving him a hug and commenting on how thin he was getting.  She promptly began fussing about making some food for him and shoving it in front him, trying to force him to eat.  John ate a little, not feeling particularly hungry but also not wanting to be rude.  The conversation wasn't exactly interesting, just idle gossip, John ate enough to at least convince Mrs. Hudson that he was full and not hurt her feelings.  They sat and chatted for a few more moments then John said he was just going to pop upstairs quickly and then he had to be off, making the excuse that he was going to meet Greg at the pub.  After hugging Mrs. Hudson goodbye once again he had to take that deep, steadying breath and then take the first step, that was always the hardest.

Inside the flat he just stood for a few moments looking around the room, looking at how nothing had been touched.  Every single thing in the room was in the  _exact_ spot it was in on the day he...the day he died.  It was the same every time, this was the part when the tears would come unnoticed.  He finally took the few steps in to the room and sat in his old arm chair.

_It's been nearly two years Sherlock, I used to think that it really was a magic trick, that you would actually come back to me._

He would sit like this for hours talking aloud to an empty room, but this was the part he loved even if it did tear him to shreds.  He liked the pain, it made him remember that he was in fact still alive.

_Please, Sherlock.  I need you, I know I should have told you when I had the chance, but I'm saying it now. I love you and I can't take this life without you.  I always thought I was strong, stronger than this but I'm not.  If you're not here then there is no reason for me to go on being here.  Why did you always have to be such and idiot?_

John sat forward and wiped the tears gruffly from his face, looking at his watch he was surprised to find that he had been there for nearly an hour.  He got up from his chair to leave and the sight at the door nearly caused him to lose consciousness.  Sherlock was standing there, slowly removing his scarf and not bothering to hide the two wet streaks on either side of his face that were the evidence of his own shed tears.

"John."

John had had to reach out to the chair to keep his knees from buckling and sending him crashing to the floor.  Sherlock had removed his coat, that wonderful, stupid coat that John absolutely loved, and he was now standing directly in front of him.

"John, I am infinitely sorry for all the grief I have caused you."

John was speechless and so he did the only thing that came to his mind, the only thing he could think of to prove that the man was real.  He grabbed him by the lapels of his suit coat and pulled him forward into the most wonderful kiss that the doctor had ever experienced.  He drank in the amazing musky with a hint of licorice scent and the taste of him was far beyond what he had ever dreamed.  He could detect the hint of menthol telling of a cigarette not long ago but John wasn't worried at the moment, all he cared about right in this moment was his fear that if he let go Sherlock would disappear like a beautiful dream.  John was pleased to feel the detective's long arms wrap around his shoulders and his gracefully long fingers work their way through his hair, pulling him closer.  It was as if the two men were trying, through this one kiss, to communicate two years worth of longing, and they were succeeding.  Finally they had to break apart in order to breathe and they both took a tiny step back, surveying the other man.

"You've lost twenty one pounds, John.  We'll have to fix that."  and he smirked, quirking the one corner of his mouth and John was barely able to keep from kissing him again.

"I don't even care, Sherlock, truly I don't.  I just want to say how sorry I am and I need to tell you how much I love you."

With that Sherlock had again advanced on him and cupped his face with both hands and their lips met again and it suddenly felt like the last two years had been nothing but a horrible nightmare, which it was.  It felt like they had never been apart and it felt like this was not their first night together, rather it felt like they had spent a lifetime together but in reality they had a lifetime ahead.


End file.
